One of Detroit's most popular restaurants was burned down—but that won't stop it from coming back.

It was just after dawn when Brad Greenhill, chef of Katoi got a call that an arsonist allegedly robbed then burned down his Detroit restaurant, a recently nominated James Beard Award semi-finalist. He was in Thailand for the first time on a two-week research trip while texts and emails from his partners—Courtney Henriette, who handles the front of house and expansion, and real estate developer Philip Kafka—and panicked staffers were streaming in on patchy WiFi.

Chris Miele

Before the fire, patrons could find Katoi in an funky garage in Corktown.

Katoi opened in March of 2016. Yet the restaurant, located in a refurbished Corktown garage, had already become the hottest newcomer to the city, hosting DJ sets in the same space-age interior that confidently turned out assertive Thai-inspired food night after night. It was the brick-and-mortar realization of the food truck from which Greenhill and Henriette slung khao soi outside of a Detroit bar, and it was racking up accolades from publications like Thrillist, Detroit Free Press, and Eater Detroit in its first year of service.

"When I heard, I was in shock, and the only feeling I had was, man, I need a drink," says Greenhill. "My next thought was figuring out how quickly I could get home."

By the time he arrived, other Detroit restaurant owners and customers had reached out with offers to help. Local restaurants such as Sister Pie and Bon Bon Bon immediately started taking donations for Katoi staffers, and friends with restaurants in San Francisco and New York instantly offered up their spaces for pop-ups. "Who knows how much of those will happen?" Kafka says of the likelihood of those countrywide pop-ups.

Chris Miele

Facing the colorful bar at Katoi, before the fire.

Greenhill's first priority is trying to figure out how to keep his best people: "It's a lot easier to run a kitchen than to act like FEMA." A core group of essential staffers is being retained with whatever funds Katoi has. The rest are being adopted by other local restaurants kind enough to take them in for a few months. If those staffers want to stay at the other restaurants for good, they're allowed. But Greenhill expects almost all will return for Katoi 2.0.

Chris Miele

The once lively interior of Katoi was completely burned.

Greenhill optimistically gives it four months before the new Katoi opens again, even though he knows that projects like this tend to take way longer than initial estimates. By the time it does reopen, Greenhill, Henriette, and Kafka expect there to be a few tweaks to the food and space. It's far from ideal that they have to start from scratch, but they may as well take advantage of the opportunity while they have it.

"We know we can't just open the restaurant the way it was before. It has to be better, because the expectations are higher," says Greenhill.

Chris Miele

On Saturday nights, the restaurant often hosted local DJs.

Kafka and the architect are already thinking about how they can better optimize the space for service. Previously, there had been low, 80s-style booths and a communal table. That communal table could be better integrated into the rest of the restaurant this time around, says Kafka. The architect was displeased with the slight asymmetry of the interior, and wants to fix it. The bar wasn't perfect. And, on top of all this, they were already in the middle of expanding the restaurant. When Katoi reopens, it will be with the addition—which includes outdoor space—already in place.

Chris Miele

Bright, patterned upholstery and a few bottles at the bar remain visible in the damaged Katoi interior.

If they opened the restaurant as tentative newcomers, the next version will be more self-assured. Like a Radiohead album, Kafka says, Katoi's sophomore effort will look and feel like what everyone loved about the first iteration of the restaurant, but it'll be slightly tweaked, refined, and evolved to incorporate what's transpired since then. Greenhill had already been planning to overhaul the menu, but had been waiting for the right time. No better time than now, immediately after this forced reset and his first trip to Thailand, where he was struck by the number of ingredients he'll never be able to transport to an American kitchen.

Chris Miele

James Beard Award semi-finalist Katoi in the middle of service, before the fire.

The hard part for Kafka—who was the one to initially scout the location when it was just an old Corktown garage with three walls and no roof—is that he wasn't surprised about the arson. He describes Detroit as a "tough town" and the fire as a "microcosm for the story of the city, where there's immense promise and, just as it hits its stride, there is a setback." What that means for Katoi, Kafka says, is that the tough town it calls home will make it tougher in the process. Instead of feeling like invincible teenagers at a party that can't possibly end, they'll have to be more vigilant, more inclined to double-check that alarms are set. The new Katoi will be more like a fortress, Kafka says.

Chris Miele

The communal table will be revamped for the new Katoi.

Greenhill, on the other hand, is more optimistic, even though he had to pause our phone conversation to answer an investigator's questions. He's keeping busy by putting together inventory shoots for insurance companies. He's placing his people in restaurants. He's acting as a makeshift guidance counselor. But mostly he's looking forward to cooking one hell of a dinner next week at the James Beard House in New York, despite the unique logistical challenges posed by not being able to use a home kitchen to prepare anything in advance. Not that it concerns him—hosting is what he and the Katoi team do best.